


intricate rituals

by margosfairyeye (Skittery)



Series: Michael Guerin Week 2020 [5]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Ableism, Alcohol, Dead Jesse Manes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Holding Hands, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Michael Guerin Week 2020, Mutual Pining, Nostalgia, Post-Season/Series 02, Wakes & Funerals, background forrest long/alex manes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skittery/pseuds/margosfairyeye
Summary: Post season 2.  Alex struggles at his father's wake, and Michael is there for him.-- --Fic prompt: “Just trust me.”Day 5 of Michael Guerin Week 2020
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Michael Guerin Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928218
Comments: 10
Kudos: 121





	intricate rituals

**Author's Note:**

> Fic prompt: “Just trust me.”
> 
> \-- --   
> warnings: funeral/wake setting, referenced child abuse, referenced homophobia, ableism, light alcohol use

Michael looked around for Alex as he stepped into the house, his skin prickling with unreasonable nervousness. It didn’t take him long to find Alex, standing by a window in the living room with someone in a decorated uniform. Alex looked impassive except for his eyes, which kept flitting around as if looking for an escape. Michael paused to grab a beer from the table set up with food and stuff, and walked slowly over to Alex. 

He hadn’t wanted to bother Alex at the funeral, hadn’t actually wanted to even be at the funeral, except he wanted to be there for Alex, if he looked like he needed it. He’d watched from a little ways off as Alex stood with his brothers, all of their expressions stony, wearing suits and dress uniforms, and looking the part of the grieving family against the backdrop of the bright grey skies. 

But now, at the wake, Michael thought Alex might want to see someone who wasn’t associated with his father, who wasn’t here because they actually missed Jesse Manes. 

“Hey,” Michael said, slipping into place in front of Alex as the person talking to him moved away. 

“Hi.” Alex sounded relieved, and Michael tried not to feel too happy about that. 

“Never thought I’d come back here,” Michael said, looking around quickly. 

“Me neither,” Alex replied. He lifted his hand as if to drink from the glass he was holding, and then lowered it again without actually touching it to his lips. “I actually didn’t think you’d come at all.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Michael said softly, turning his face towards the window so that no one in the room could read his lips. “Are you okay?”

Alex hesitated for long enough that Michael felt it hang in the air between them. “He’s finally dead, you know, and—and I’m still here.” Alex gestured vaguely around the room, his father’s house, a place he hadn’t had to go in years, and now…

“You didn’t have to come,” Michael said softly, fully prepared for the rebuke.

“You don’t know anything about this, about familial obligations,” Alex snapped, and then immediately sagged, looking exhausted and sad. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“No,” Michael took a drink of his beer, his mouth set tightly. It stung, but this wasn’t about him. “I get it.”

Alex sighed. He was holding tightly to the drink that he wasn’t drinking, and Michael thought maybe it was just to keep his hands steady. “I wish we could just,” he lowered his voice, leaning into Michael’s space, a pained look passing over his face, “toss him in the ground and be done with it. Not all of this…performance.”

Michael nodded. “I wish you could, too.”

“It’s been nice having Gregory around, though. He’s helpful, at least. Flint is…”

“Actually mourning?” Michael asked bitterly.

“We’re all mourning,” Alex replied, looking away and then back at him, his face hard with unspoken emotion. “Even if it’s just for the family we never had, the one all of these people think we did.” 

Michael reached out carefully and gripped the edge of Alex’s sleeve between his thumb and forefinger. “I really wanna hug you, but…”

Alex nodded, moving his wrist slightly so their skin touched for a moment and then pulling back. “Yeah, better not. I don’t really know who’s here, so.”

“Yeah.” Michael let the sleeve drop, swallowing around all of the emotion, trying to keep himself from showing too much. Without Jesse, they were the only thing in their own way, and Michael knew that, and it only made it harder to know that they still weren’t together. 

Alex made a quiet sound of disgust and Michael’s attention flipped back to him, following Alex’s gaze over to a corner of the room opposite them where Flint was holding court, surrounded by somber people. He looked pale, and was holding himself up against the wall, pretending to just be leaning on it. 

“It’s ridiculous,” Alex said suddenly, bitterly. “The doctors told him to stay in a wheelchair, but you know how my family feels about showing any weakness.”

Michael nodded. He wanted to tell Alex that nothing about him was a weakness—especially the things he couldn’t control, and the things he worked hard to deal with—regardless of what his fucking family implied, but he didn’t know if he could start that conversation and have it end with Flint still upright. 

An older man dressed in black pulled up to them and gripped Alex’s arm in a way that was probably meant to be kind, but Michael could see Alex’s barely-there flinch. “I’m so sorry for your loss, son,” the man said gruffly.

“Thank you,” Alex replied in a monotone. The older man let go of his arm, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked past them. Alex swallowed, breathing shallow, tense breaths. Michael’s hand twitched with the need to reach out, to comfort, to let Alex know that he was both not alone and doing as well as anyone could expect. 

“Do you want to step outside or something?” Michael offered quietly, not sure if he wanted Alex to take him up on it or not, not sure if leaving this room would offer solace or just the collapse from the effort it was taking Alex to keep his facade up. “Just to breathe for a minute?”

Alex nodded, uncomfortably, almost reluctantly. He glanced towards a window, the clusters of people spilling out into the yard. “Not outside.” He hesitated, and then started walking towards another part of the house. 

Michael wasn’t sure if he was supposed to follow, or if Alex just wanted space from everything, including him—not that he’d blame him—and he hesitated, finally taking a sip of the beer, which was now lukewarm and bitter. Alex turned quickly, looking at Michael over his shoulder, beckoning him forward with just the look in his eyes. Michael knew that look, that intense, sad, tortured look that meant that Alex was on the edge of doing something he was afraid of, something he wanted. Maybe it was just leaving the room, the wake, that felt wrong and disallowed. Maybe it was something else. Michael set his beer down on the windowsill and followed him. 

They walked into a little hall with several doors leading off of it, all of them shut. Alex pulled one open and looked over his shoulder again, making sure Michael would follow him in. Michael looked around him before he did, but no one had followed them, no one had noticed Alex walking away, and if they had it probably seemed natural that the family would need to take some time, some moments away periodically. 

Alex waited until Michael was inside the room, and then closed the door again behind them. They were in a small room with the blinds drawn, darkness and shadows enveloping them. Michael could just make out a small bed in one corner, and an empty guitar stand in another. 

Michael couldn’t really see Alex, but he could hear Alex breathing, taking big gulps of air that didn’t seem to be making it all the way to his lungs. Michael reached out blindly, one of his hands connecting with Alex’s shoulder, and pulled him into a crushing hug. To Michael’s surprise, Alex let himself be pulled, his arms wrapping around Michael instead of stretched out to stop the contact the way Michael had expected. Alex took a great, shuddering breath and Michael could feel it on his neck, and the closeness of it took him almost by surprise, his stomach swooping with how much he missed this, even though he was determined not to admit that to himself, and now wasn’t the time to start. 

They stayed there for a long moment, just holding onto each other and breathing. Michael ran his hand up Alex’s back in what he hoped was a soothing motion, finally curling it against the nape of his neck. Alex’s breath shuddered again and Michael could feel the warm wet sensation of a tear falling against his shoulder. He didn’t make a comment, certain that Alex would not want to admit that he was crying, wouldn’t want it pointed out. 

Michael could do this, he could be there for Alex now, even if part of him knew that he was just a warm, familiar body; even if part of him knew that this was only okay because they were in the dark, hidden from everyone else and from themselves. Alex sniffed and Michael’s hand tightened instinctively against Alex’s neck, protective, even as he shivered from the wet drip on his own neck. 

Alex laughed wetly. “Sorry, I’m—” he pulled away a little bit, running his hand over Michael’s shoulder like he could wipe away the tearstained spot, “Shit. Sorry.”

Michael grasped Alex’s hand, stopping the semi-frantic motion and just holding it against his chest. “Don’t apologize.”

Alex sniffed. “Yeah. This is all just…harder than I thought it would be.”

Michael nodded, even though Alex certainly couldn’t see it, when all he could see of Alex’s expression was the white of his eyes. He understood. It wasn’t about Alex’s father, the fucking asshole, it was just being here, being forced into this role of dutiful son over and over, when Alex still bore the scars proving how useless it was even to pretend. It was too much to ask of anyone, and especially of Alex, who only ever wanted to love people, and who kept getting disappointed. Michael swallowed uneasily. He knew he was one of the disappointments—maybe not to the same level as Alex’s father, but still. He suddenly realized he probably shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be forcing Alex to turn to him when there were other options. 

“Where’s Forrest?” Michael asked, his stomach churning as he said it, not really wanting to hear the answer. If that guy had already disappointed Alex, too, Michael didn’t care what Alex said about forgiveness, he was going to kick the guy’s ass. “Thought he’d be here.”

“I told him not to come,” Alex replied, like it was obvious. “I knew I wasn’t going to be at my best today, didn’t want to scare him off.”

The answer made anger flare through Michael, the idea that Alex would be scared of showing a moment of weakness to his probably boyfriend at his fucking abusive asshole dad’s wake, the idea that anyone would allow Alex to keep them away when he so obviously needed the support. Michael hated being here, in this house, but it would have taken an act of god to keep him away from Alex today, because he knew it would be hard, and he knew Alex would try to push everyone away, and he knew what he would want if it were him in Alex’s position. He would want not to be left alone, even if he’d asked for just that.

“If this is enough to scare him away,” Michael started, and Alex quickly interrupted. 

“That’s not—I just mean, I want to seem like a good partner. He doesn’t need to see all the skeletons, not yet.”

Michael frowned. “I saw your skeletons right away, and I’m still here.” It wasn’t quite what he wanted to say, and he could tell by the way Alex started to pull back that it wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear either. 

“Yeah, and look how great we’ve done,” Alex said, and his wry laugh sounded wet again, like he’d started crying even though Michael couldn’t hear any other evidence of it. 

Michael gripped Alex’s hand more tightly, pulled him forward enough that he could run his hand along the side of Alex’s face. He shouldn’t be doing this, any of this, he’d made his decisions and Alex had made his decisions, and they shouldn’t be standing in a dark room with Michael’s hands anywhere on Alex’s skin. And yet. 

“Not because of this,” Michael said, firmly. “Not because of you, not because…look, if this is enough to scare him away, then he doesn’t deserve you.” 

Alex laughed, and it sounded sad, and grateful, and Michael knew they wouldn’t be having any of this conversation in the light, not even a little bit. He wondered if Alex had known that when he’d led Michael in here and not bothered to turn on the lights. Like if it happened in the dark, then it didn’t count. Like they were outside of time. 

“This used to be my room,” Alex said abruptly, leaning his cheek against Michael’s hand, the words hitting Michael’s hand with little puffs of air. 

Michael looked around more carefully now, even though he still couldn’t see anything. He’d never been in Alex’s room, because the shed had been the safe place until it wasn’t, and then nowhere in this house had been safe, and Michael had lost any reason for coming by. Until right now. “Really?”

“Yeah, me and Flint. He got the bigger room when he came back, when I was still overseas.” He laughed wryly. “I stayed here a few times, in between tours, when I needed a place to go and my father still thought…anyway.” He took a deep breath, still leaning into Michael’s touch, his lips almost touching Michael’s palm. “I’m surprised he left it like this. I thought he would have turned it into a storage room or something by now.”

Michael heard the words under that—the idea that Alex’s father hadn’t thought that he hated Alex, he’d thought he was saving Alex, that there was enough of a Manes deep inside of Alex that he kept Alex’s room set up, like Alex would walk in one day and proclaim that he was done with everything he loved, that he was a brand fucking new person in the bigot-shaped ideal of his father. It was bullshit, or if not, then it was manipulative as hell. Michael wanted to slam his fist through every wall of this house. He wanted to tear it apart, piece by piece, until it was dust and mud and splinters, until there was nothing left. So that Alex never had to step foot inside here again. 

“We can destroy this room, after everyone leaves,” Michael offered carefully. “Just fuck up the bad memories, and you’d never have to see it again.”

“I don’t know.”

“Give me one reason why not.”

Alex hesitated, and then leaned away from Michael’s hand and tugged his hand forward, moving their hands away from Michael’s chest. At first Michael thought he was trying to escape completely from Michael’s grip, but his fingers were knit between Michael’s, and he didn’t seem to be trying to pull them free. Just to pull Michael towards the other side of the room. “I don’t know if it’s still here…”

Michael took a step after him, then pulled back, making Alex stop. “What?”

Alex was much closer than Michael expected, enough that Michael could feel him, could feel the electricity between them. He kind of thought that would never fade, now, regardless of who else they were with, or what they were doing. There would always be this thing between them, and right now it felt safe, and comforting, and familiar. 

“Just trust me,” Alex said quietly, and Michael answered “okay,” immediately.

Alex resumed pulling him towards the other wall, pausing briefly to tug open what must be a closet. Alex pushed aside the few hanging pieces of old, mothball-scented clothing, yanking Michael after him. Alex pressed Michael against the back wall of the closet softly, then reached out and pulled the door closed behind them, closing them into the small, dusty space. 

“What—?” Michael couldn’t see at all, just feel the vague shapes of the hanging clothes. He felt Alex pulling him down and realized Alex had sunk to the floor, sitting with his back against the wall. “Pushing me back into the closet, huh?” 

Alex laughed quietly, tugging on Michael’s hand until Michael gave in and slid down the wall, wondering what the fuck they were doing, and how much he was going to regret it. Michael felt a soft brush against his hand, and he couldn’t tell if it was something hanging in the closet or Alex’s lips, and he didn’t want to ask, afraid of how he would react to the answer. 

“Look up,” Alex said, and Michael tipped his head back against the wall and looked up at the top of the closet. 

At first, he wasn’t sure what they were. But then, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see that they were stars. Hundreds of those tiny, glow-in-the-dark star stickers, spread out across the ceiling, constellations and patterns, all glowing dimly. There was a moon in one corner, and other random planets scattered around the edges. 

It would have been impossible to see this from outside of the closet, impossible unless you knew to sit by the back wall, to look up in just the right way, past the wooden rod strung across the middle of the closet. This was something secret, something that was Alex’s, and the fact that it was stars was so perfect, so fitting, that Michael felt himself choke with emotion. His hand was still tangled with Alex’s on the floor between them, and Michael gripped Alex’s hand fiercely.

“Gregory put them up,” Alex said quietly, like he was afraid to interrupt the moment. “Before I figured out that I could go out to the shed, I used to hide in here. He said you could make wishes on stars, so…”

Michael tried to find his voice. Imagining tiny Alex hiding in a closet, looking up at fake stars and hoping things would change, it made Michael so angry, and so sad, and so fucking grateful that Alex was such a strong person that he’d made it here, to sit with Michael and share this tiny thing that felt immeasurable. He wanted to tell Alex that he used to run away from his foster homes, that he used to run as far from the house as he could and look up at the sky and wish for someone to come take him home, that they were probably doing the same thing in different places—different circumstances, different stars. He wanted to tell Alex that none of this was fair or right, and it wasn’t what made Alex strong, but that Alex was strong, that he was important, and perfect, and worthy. That Michael would take him to see every star if he could. That Michael would do anything to keep Alex from anyone like his father ever again. 

“I haven’t been in here in so long,” Alex said, “I think I was afraid that it wouldn’t feel the same, but it does, it feels…” he trailed off, searching for the word. 

“Yeah,” Michael said hoarsely, not wanting to hear whatever word Alex had for the way this felt, because he thought that if he did, he might never be able to leave, and that wasn’t a choice he could make right now. “It does.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Alex’s voice was so small, Michael wasn’t even certain he was supposed to hear it. 

“I’ll always be there, if you want me to,” Michael said, and it wasn’t nearly enough, but it was more than he’d said out loud, or at least, more than he’d said before and actually meant it.

Alex hummed and sniffled, and didn’t say anything. It felt so removed from earlier, from the parade of people who didn’t know the Maneses at all, but who thought they did, who wanted to offer Alex a hand to shake and a bowl of some stupid casserole while the walls tightened in on him. They sat in silence in the dark with their backs pressed against the wall, staring up at the fake stars, their hands clasped tightly between them, and it felt almost good.

“I should go back out there,” Alex said eventually, after what might have been mere seconds, or might have been hours. Either way, it wasn’t enough time for a moment Michael wanted to keep.

“Are you sure?” Michael’s hand ached from holding it so tightly in Alex’s, and he couldn’t have cared less. He wanted to stay here, in this moment, in the safety of this space that held only ghosts of years past, in the darkness where they could pretend the cracks between them didn’t need so much work to mend. 

“Yeah, they’ll notice.” Alex sighed and released Michael’s hand, pulling himself forward and twisting the doorknob to open the closet. Someone had clearly wandered into the room during the time they were sitting there, because the door to the hallway was open, a triangle of light slanting into the room. 

It was like a spell broke, with the light, and whatever had held them together on the floor of the closet was gone. Michael wanted to grip Alex’s hand again, just to reinforce that it was real, but he couldn’t, there wasn’t space for it anymore, and Alex was standing stock still, rebuilding the armor that he showed to other people. 

Michael followed him into the hallway, and Alex spun around before they reached the main room, looking like he wanted to say something but the words were stuck in his throat. Before he could say anything, though, Gregory stepped into the hallway, looking as exhausted and worn as Alex did. 

“Thanks for coming,” he said, reaching out to shake Michael’s hand. Michael felt odd, but he took the offered hand, pulling his own armor back on. “I know Alex appreciates friendly faces.” 

Alex looked uneasy, but neither of them said anything to correct that statement. It just hung in the air between the three of them, too much and too little. 

“How are you holding up?” Michael asked quietly, and Gregory shrugged. 

“We’ve just got to get through today, and then we’re done. He’s gone, and we’re done, and that’s it.” 

Michael hoped Gregory was telling Alex that over and over, enough for it to really sink in. This was better—it didn’t feel better yet, but it would be. Everything would be okay. 

“We should get back in there,” Gregory said, almost apologetically. 

“Yeah.” Michael hated how awkward this felt. “Well, thanks for the beer.”

“I’ll be staying in a town for a bit,” Gregory said. “We’ll see you around, I’m sure.”

Michael looked to Alex, who nodded, almost imperceptibly, but nodded. “I’m sure you will,” Michael said, more emphatically than he meant to. 

He walked back into the living room with them, and then watched them go off to talk to someone, Gregory’s hand reassuringly on Alex’s shoulder. Without Alex to talk to, being here felt wrong, and he left after one look back at them, making sure Alex was okay with his brother. Michael felt strange, wired and exhausted and aching. 

He had forgotten how it felt when things with them just lined up like this, when moments in their separate lives felt connected, like magnets, like planets aligning. It made Michael feel like he wasn’t making a mistake by staying here. He’d promised to be around, always, as long as Alex wanted it, and he intended to keep that promise. 

**Author's Note:**

> I promise i can write happy fics and that tomorrow's will be 100% happier.
> 
> Come say hi to me on tumblr: [my RNM sideblog](https://ineverlookavvay.tumblr.com) / [my main](https://margosfairyeye.tumblr.com)


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